


Oh What A Night

by helsinkibaby



Series: Dark Horses [1]
Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Het, Love Triangles, Romance, trigger warning: mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-10
Updated: 2002-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The West Wing staff, a hotel suite on New Year's Eve, and alcohol…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh What A Night

**Author's Note:**

> Sunny issued, on the West Wing Secretaries List, and on the Toby list, a New Year's Challenge - namely _have a New Years party for the staff. It can be at the White House, someone's home or a bar. Everyone gets drunk and at least one person, maybe more, end up in a compromising position with someone unlikely (i.e. - Josh and Margaret) and the rest of the staff finds out. Let your minds run wild and have fun!_

  
The suite upstairs in the Watergate was packed with White House staffers, all of whom had gathered to celebrate the end of what had been, quite simply, the most hellacious year that any of them had ever had the misfortune to endure. As Toby Ziegler had pointed out, it had started with them getting their asses kicked over the Leadership Breakfast. "Some of us more than others," CJ Cregg had reminded him archly, not flinching over the look that he gave her in reply. Then, Toby continued, there had been the shootings in Colombia, the thing with the Surgeon General, Mrs Landingham, the MS announcement and the fall-out from that, not to mention the start of the Congressional Hearings that they all had to look forward to, promising them that the year 2002 wouldn't begin much better than 2001 had ended. Added to that, Toby reminded them, were the various personal problems that they'd each encountered in the past twelve months. Thus, it was that while a lot of people might not have been in the mood for celebrations, a number of people had taken it upon themselves to organise a Staff New Year's Eve party for any of those who wanted to bid 2001 a fond farewell. They'd rented the hotel, splitting the cost among any of those who wanted to come, and a goodly number had, including all of the assistants and the Senior Staff. The only ones who weren't there were Charlie, who was at the Manchester House with Zoey and the Bartlets, and Leo, who was at the same place. There would be no Press at this party either, it had been decided. Just a night for all the staff to let their hair down, kick back, and not worry about who would see them, or what might be written. This was their night. They deserved this.

Josh, Sam, Toby and CJ had all decided to meet up beforehand at a small bar near to the hotel, and CJ was already regretting it as they entered the suite to find the party well started. Sam had only just heard the news that Mallory was getting even more serious with the hockey player, and while he seemed to be taking it pretty well, Josh was convinced that he was about to fall apart any moment, and was plying him with beer to cushion the fall. Of course, this meant that Josh was drinking plenty himself, and with his delicate system, he was already well on the way to falling down drunkenness. Sam didn't seem to be showing any such effects, but CJ supposed that it was only a matter of time. Toby, on the other hand, was even more morose than usual, sipping his Scotch slowly, growling inaudibly at anyone who came near to him.

So when CJ saw her loyal, trusted, and most importantly, personable assistant standing around a couch with some of the other assistants, she made a beeline towards them, grabbing herself a glass of champagne on the way. "Hey," she said, hugging Carol and wishing her a happy New Year.

"You made it!" Donna said, smiling up at CJ from the couch.

"Just barely." CJ fought back a groan with great effort. "Somebody remind me why I thought it was a good idea to come with the Idiot Boys over there?"

"So that you'd know where Toby hid the bodies?" suggested Margaret, leaving Bonnie, Ginger and Donna in stitches.

CJ hadn't thought that the joke was that funny, although it could have been the hour that she'd just passed with said Idiot Boys. But Carol wasn't laughing either, and she leaned closer to CJ. "I drove here tonight. Meet the Idiot Boys female counterparts."

CJ looked at her askance. "Are you driving them home?"

Carol shook her head. "I'm not insane CJ. They make their own way home."

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Larry and Ed, paying them a flying visit to wish them all a happy New Year. They had also obviously been enjoying a little New Year's spirit elsewhere, because they decided that it would be great fun to try lifting CJ and Carol off their feet at the same time. In the ensuing madness and tangle of body parts, no-one noticed the gold chain slip from Carol's wrist, falling to the ground.

When Larry and Ed disappeared off to wherever it was they were going, Donna stood up. "I'm going to say hi to the Idiot Boys," she announced, and CJ fell into her seat gratefully, looking up at Carol as she did so.

"How much has she had to drink?" she wondered.

"Not that much," Carol reassured her.

"Not enough to lose her inhibitions and jump on Josh if that's what you're asking," Bonnie continued, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Well, thank God for that," CJ said, following Donna's path across the room with her eyes. "Because, God knows, the last thing that this administration needs is a sex scandal."

If she'd been able to hear what the men were saying to Donna, she wouldn't have been worried. Sam nodded at her and told her that she looked lovely, while Josh's first words to her were to enquire as to why she hadn't met up with them at the bar.

"I was meeting the girls Josh," she told him, looking at the half-empty bottle in his hand before looking at Sam. "How many has he had?"

"Two," Sam replied quickly. "And that one."

"Donna, so help me," Josh threatened her. "If you try to tell me that I have a sensitive system…"

"But you…"

"Ah!"

"You have a very delicate system Joshua…"

"Gah!"

"And if you end up face down in a gutter somewhere, while press photographers take your photograph, making you an object of scorn and derision among your peers, well then, don't come crying to me."

Sam hid his smile in the neck of his beer bottle, while Toby didn't even bother to try. "I need a drink," Josh sighed, draining the last of his beer.

"Well, I just came over to say hi, and on my way to the buffet table," Donna told them, already moving away.

"Good idea. I'll join you." Toby moved with her, falling into step beside her.

When they were out of earshot of Sam and Josh, who were quickly joined by Bonnie and Ginger, who wanted to wish Sam a happy new year, Donna, looking straight ahead, a smile on her face, told Toby, "You haven't said anything about my dress yet."

Toby wasn't looking at her either. "It's a nice dress."

"That's the best you can do? The best that the Director of Communications for the White House can do is it's a nice dress?" The pout was somewhere between teasing and genuine.

"It's a lovely dress," Toby relented as they reached the buffet table. Then he turned to face her, leaned down slightly so that only she could hear him. "But nowhere near as lovely as the lady wearing it." When he straightened up, there was a small knowing grin on his face. "Better?"

Donna's smile was bright. "Much."

Meanwhile, Zach made his way over to Josh and Sam, wishing them a happy New Year. He didn't stay long forever, taking his opportunity to drag Bonnie out on to the dance floor. Not that she needed much persuading, but the incident caused Josh to go off on a rant on the pitiful excuse for music that they were playing. "We need some decent music," he grumbled.

Ginger looked at him, amused, having heard of Josh's legendary sensitive system, wondering just how far gone he was. "And what passes for decent music with you Josh?"

"The classics Ginger, the classics." Josh looked towards the sky, ready to give a passionate account of his favoured musical tastes. "The Beatles. The Rolling Stones. Fleetwood Mac…"

"Any modern groups there Josh?" Sam's tone was teasing, but Josh shot him an annoyed look.

"Do not, Samuel, start me on the state of current popular music trends…although artists like U2 and Sting do their best to restore my faith in music amid the slough of mediocrity which abounds…"

"You like Sting?" Ginger asked, mercifully, as far as Sam was concerned, cutting Josh off in mid-spout, something that very few people ever did successfully. He supposed it came from working with Toby.

"Sting is a genius," Josh declared. "I saw him play with the Police way back when…and his work now…I mean…. Fragile…the man's a poet."

Ginger was nodding enthusiastically. "I saw him play this summer…Giants Stadium, I was right at the front. That was his encore, just him, one spotlight and an acoustic guitar." Her eyes were shining at the memory. "He's incredible."

"What was that song he had out this year?" Sam asked. "The one with the weird language in it."

He knew he'd made some weird Sting faux pas when he got identical withering looks from both Josh and Ginger. "That weird language happens to be Arabic," Josh told him. "And Cheb Mami happens to be one of the foremost recording artists in the world."

"And the song was Desert Rose," Ginger finished.

Sam clicked his fingers. "That's it. Y'know, I never knew what that song was about…all that wailing…."

"It's about longing," Ginger told him, looking down at the glass in her hand. "About dreams…about wanting what you can't have."

"I dream of love as time runs through my hands." Josh quoted from the song, ending with a sigh, looking around the room as if he was looking for someone.

Silence reigned over the group for a second, before Josh shook himself visibly. "Lithium Sunset…album version or live version."

Sam was mystified, but Ginger's reply was prompt. "Live version…when he goes into Twist and Shout. I'm So Happy I Can't Stop Crying…. original version or country duet?"

"Original. You?"

Ginger looked down, a smile on her face. "Country duet."

Josh's face registered shock, and Sam had never felt more lost. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was the only sober one at the party but then he looked around the room and his gaze came to rest on someone who looked just as sober as he was, aimlessly picking at the buffet table. Leaving Ginger and Josh somewhere in the middle of discussing dreams and blue turtles, whatever the heck that was about, he came up beside her, not looking at her at first, pretending to check what food was left out there. He kept taking sidelong glances at her before finally speaking. "You look worryingly sober."

She turned to him, raising one eyebrow, tilting her head as she looked at him. She was the same height as him, able to look him right in the eye, but there was no anger in her gaze, no irritation with him. Instead, she seemed vaguely amused. "As do you," she told him, eyes flicking down momentarily to the beer bottle he held in his hand.

"Josh is trying to get me drunk," Sam confided. "I'm crafting an illusion with cunning and guile that is taking him in."

"Ah." She looked over at the couch that Sam had just vacated. "Looks like Josh has other things on his mind right now."

Sam followed her gaze to see that Josh and Ginger had moved over to one of the couches, and were now sitting closer together than would normally be considered proper, their heads so close together that they were almost touching. "They're bonding over the musical prowess of Sting," he told her, and Carol shook her head and laughed. He didn't think that he'd ever heard Carol laugh before, Sam realised. It was a nice sound.

"I've heard Ginger on that subject," she told him. "They might be a while."

Sam raised his beer to his lips. "I wonder how Donna's taking it?"

Carol's eyebrows lifted once more, and she nodded her head in the direction of something taking place over his shoulder. "I think she's otherwise engaged too."

Turning as surreptitiously as possible, Sam was astonished to see Donna and Toby engaged in what was probably supposed to be conversation, but they were standing so closely together that it was hard to see where even a sheet of paper could have been fitted between them. And like Josh and Ginger, their heads were close enough to touch, and all in all they were giving off an air of intimacy that warned other partygoers away from them. "Well, well, well," was all he could think of to say.

"Indeed."

Carol didn't sound as surprised as Sam expected, and he looked back at her, regarding her curiously. "You don't sound surprised," he observed.

She shrugged. "It's New Year's Eve, we're at a party, there's alcohol flowing…nothing should surprise you."

Sam supposed that that was true, but his close observation of her had proven something else to him. "Hey, you look good."

Carol looked down at her outfit, a blush rising on her cheeks. "Thanks."

"I'm serious." She was wearing a long red skirt and matching top, nothing flashy, nothing gaudy, just very classy, very elegant. "Red's a good colour for you."

"Thanks," Carol said again, looking down at the table, at the floor, anywhere it seemed, but at Sam, a fact that wasn't lost on him.

"I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I? I shouldn't have said that. I was rude, and I apologise."

He would have gone on, but Carol laughed again and held up a hand. "Sam, relax. You weren't rude. I just don't take compliments well."

"Well you should." She looked down at his words, and he closed his eyes briefly. "I did it again didn't I?"

"Yes. But thank you."

Seeing that Carol was turning as red as her outfit, Sam looked around him, casting frantically for a change of subject. He found it when he looked back at Carol again. "Aren't you warm?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry?" The change of subject was a little too quick for her, so he backtracked.

"I was just looking at all the other women here…and they're in short sleeves, and some of them are in no sleeves, no to mention no backs…and then I looked back at you, and here you are, and you've got long sleeves on, and I was just wondering if you were warm?"

Carol shifted on her feet. "I'm fine," she shrugged.

"Really?" Sam took another sip of his beer. His jacket had gone the second he'd entered the hotel, as had most of the other men's; likewise, their ties hadn't lasted beyond the first half an hour. By this stage of the night, their shirtsleeves were all rolled up, and that was with most of the windows in the suite open.

"Just a cold creature I guess." Carol shrugged again, her tone light, and for some reason, it struck Sam as too light. He had the feeling that he'd said something wrong again, something that made Carol uncomfortable, but for the life of him, he couldn't work out what.

He was saved from making any more gaffes by Margaret coming over to them. "Carol, is this your bracelet?" She had a gold link bracelet in her hand which she held out to them. Carol checked her wrist quickly and nodded, taking the proffered bracelet.

"That's incredible," Sam said. "How did you know it was hers?"

Margaret, who was definitely in a more relaxed frame of mind than Sam was used to, gave him a look that she normally reserved for Leo when he'd made his own appointments. "Her name is engraved on it," she pointed out witheringly before heading back in the direction she'd come.

"Ah." Sam turned back to Carol, and was amused to see her holding her arm up, trying to work the catch. "Is it broken?"

"No…it just mustn't have been closed properly I guess." Carol wasn't paying close attention to him as she tried to refasten the bracelet, and being the gentleman that he was; Sam tried to help her.

"Let me get that for you."

"It's fine." Carol's eyes were narrowed to slits, her face a mask of concentration as the catch failed to find the loop one more time.

"I insist." Sam took charge, reaching out and taking the bracelet from her fingers. "Hold out your hand." She did so, palm downwards, and he fastened the bracelet easily on the first try. "There we go," he said, strangely reluctant to let her hand go, turning it so that her palm was up, facing him.

He looked up at her then, eyes wide in surprise, and she snatched her hand back as if she'd been burned. Her eyes were wide too, and her face looked paler than it had all night. "I'll be…I'm going…"

She was gone before he'd fully realised what he'd seen.

When he'd recovered himself somewhat, he followed her through the room, not seeing her at first, then a flash of red and black disappearing through the main door of the suite caught his eye. He quickly headed in that direction, and once he got to the corridor, he turned to the left on instinct, stopping when he found her sitting on the stairs to the next floor. Head down, elbows resting on her knees, she took no notice of him at first, might not have even known that he was there. He stood in front of her for a minute, not saying anything until she looked up at him. Pushing her hair back behind her ears, she sighed. "You'd better sit down."

He did as he was told, then waited.

"Aren't you going to ask me about it?"

"I kind of thought that I'd wait until you were ready to talk. You know, until you felt comfortable sharing whatever it is with me."

She laughed softly at that, looking over at him. "That could be a long wait Sam."

He shrugged. "We've got a year left in the White House…hopefully, four more after that. I've got time."

That made her laugh again, and this time, he definitely knew that he liked that sound. "You're very sweet."

"And you're avoiding the subject."

"Yes I am." Her words were so quiet, he could hardly hear them, but he couldn't help but notice how one hand was tracing the material covering the wrist that he'd just put the bracelet on, tracing, he now knew, the jagged white line there. She sighed again. "I was sixteen," she said slowly. "Going on seventeen."

Her words would have evoked the same response in anyone, and Sam spoke without thinking. "Innocent as a rose?"

She laughed again then, shaking her head, and he was relieved, because at least he knew that he hadn't offended her. "Patchouli dandies, drinkers of brandy, what do I know of those?" she concluded. "But yes…that's basically what I was. You know how things are when you're that age…fitting in is life and death; you have to have the right look, the right attitude, the right boyfriend. Which I never really had. I wasn't blonde and beautiful; I wanted to do well at school…I actually enjoyed writing term papers. So, I was more than surprised when I was asked out by this guy…he was the kind of guy that everyone loved. Popular, handsome, good at school, good at sports…all the girls were crazy about him. And I couldn't believe that he wanted to go out with me of all people. And of course, I said yes, because I'd be crazy to say no to him."

"So, we went out a couple of times, and he was sweet, and polite, and basically perfect. And this one night, when we were supposed to be meeting all his friends, he got to my house and realised that he'd forgotten his wallet. He told me that it was back at his house, that he'd have to go look for it. And I told him that that was fine, that I could wait in the car. He said that I shouldn't do that, that I could come in and wait."

Sam had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew where this was going, but he sat, not moving, as Carol wrapped her arms around herself and continued talking.

"When we got to his house, there was no-one there. I didn't know that. And he sat me down in the living room, told me to find something to watch on the television while he searched. He found the wallet pretty quickly, and when he came back, he told me that we had plenty of time, and he sat down beside me. And we were dating after all, and I was sixteen and he was a year older, so it wasn't a big surprise when he started kissing me. But then…" Her words faltered for the first time. "Then he didn't want to stop. And I tried to stop him, I did, but he was a football player, and he was strong…God, he was so strong…" She squeezed her eyes shut then, as if she was forcibly stopping the flood of images. "He didn't even realise what he'd done. He told me that I must have wanted it, otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed to come in…that I'd been leading him on…the usual stuff I guess."

She took a deep breath then. "Anyway, I told him that I didn't want to see him again. And he said that that was fine with him. It didn't stop him telling his locker room buddies what had happened. And of course, he told them that I wanted it, that I begged for it, I believe were his words. After his…recommendation…let's just say that I had a long line of suitors."

"I didn't handle it well." She glanced down at her wrist then, holding it out in front of her. Her voice was detached, remote, and Sam wasn't sure if she even remembered he was there. "You can probably guess. I stayed in my room a lot for the first couple of weeks, I didn't go out at all. I sleepwalked through my classes. And my friends, who thought it was just the aftermath of a bad break-up, although they'd heard the talk as well and they just thought it wasn't true, they dragged me out to a party. And there were some of his friends there, and someone, one of my friends, tried to give me a beer. I told her that I didn't drink, but she told me, as my friend, that I needed to loosen up, to forget about everything. She told me after everything was finished that if she'd known then what she knew now, she never would have insisted. I got trashed that night, absolutely wasted. But it was the first night in weeks that I'd been able to forget what he'd done to me…. the first night that I was able to sleep without dreaming about it. I liked that feeling"

"And that got me through for a little while…until my friends started telling me that I was partying too hard, that my grades were slipping. And my parents got on my case, and his friends were still propositioning me. Until one night, we were all out…and there was this guy, who was almost as drunk as I was, and he tried it on. And when I pushed him off, he told me that everyone knew what I was like…that the rumour mill had it that I'd slept with half the jocks in school. I don't remember leaving the party, I don't remember getting home. I have a hazy memory of looking at myself in our bathroom mirror, my makeup all over my face, my hair a mess, I'd lost weight, there were circles under my eyes…and I saw my dad's razor."

Sam didn't know when in the narrative he'd taken her hand, but he had, and now he squeezed it. She looked up at him, smiling a small but grateful smile.

"I guess I was lucky. My brother Jimmy, he's a year older than me, and he'd heard what had happened. So he came home, looking for me. He knew I was home because my coat was on the stand, but I wasn't in my room. And then he saw that the bathroom light was on, but that the door was open. To this day, he'll tell you that he doesn't know what made him look in that door, but he's the one who found me."

"What happened to the guy?"

"Nothing. I didn't press charges." Sam opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "It would have been my word against his…and I didn't want to go through it all again. I wanted to get well, to put it behind me. And I did." Carol detached her hand from his, pushing her sleeves up slightly, and Sam saw for the first time, the matching white lines on each wrist. "Except that I don't like to wear short sleeves. And I still don't drink." She looked at him then, shrugging slightly. "So there you have it. The whole story."

Sam looked into her eyes for a long moment, then repeated the action that had brought about this whole conversation. Taking one wrist in hand, he ran the fingers of his other hand over the scar. "Did you ever think of having surgery? To get rid of them?"

Carol shook her head. "There are five kids in my family Sam…Jimmy was the eldest, and he was going to college the next year, and then I was…and it's not like we were poor, but we didn’t have that kind of money to spare. Don't get me wrong, my parents would have found it, if I'd wanted. But I didn't."

"Why?"

"I wanted to remember. When I was in the hospital, I realised how far gone I was to do something like that…and I knew that I never wanted to go that way again. So these are my reminders…about what can happen if I do. And that no matter how bad things are, they're never that bad."

His fingers were still running over her skin, and both were entranced by the movement, neither one able to look away. When he finally did speak, Sam's voice was as quiet as hers had been. "You're quite something."

Soft as a whisper, her long hair brushed his hand as she dipped her head. "I'm really not," she told him, and he used his other hand to reach up and tilt her head towards him. Her skin under his palm was as soft as her hair had been, and he couldn't take his eyes off hers.

"Yes, you are."

From down the hall, they heard the volume of the music decrease, to be replaced by voices chanting.

"Ten…nine…eight…"

"We should get back in." Despite her words, Carol didn't move a muscle.

"…Seven…six…. five…"

"We really should." Sam didn't either.

"Four…"

The only movement that either one of them made was to lean closer into each other.

"…Three…."

She was so close to him that he could feel her breath against his lips.

"…Two…"

He saw her close her eyes and he did the same.

"…One…. Happy New Year!"

Their lips met as the unmistakable noise of fireworks from outside shattered the night, and the strains of "Auld Lang Syne" blared from down the hall. But Sam and Carol didn't take any notice of that.

When they separated, Sam smiled a slow smile, and saw a matching one appear on Carol's face. "Still want to go back in?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "I'd rather go home."

He stood up, pulling her with him slightly harder than was necessary so that she ended up with her arms around him. "I'll get a cab."

She shook her head again, eyes twinkling devilishly. "I drove."

He grinned. "Even better." Their lips met again, for longer this time, a promise of things to come.

Going back into the room, Sam said happy New Year to a few people, but concentrated on finding his coat as quickly as possible, as unobtrusively, he hoped, as possible. One eye was kept on Carol, and he saw her get hugged by CJ and Margaret, saw them laughing as they pointed out something to her. Following their fingers, his jaw dropped when he saw Toby and Donna in the corner, arms wrapped around one another, moving slowly to music that only they could hear. And on the couch, still where he had left them, were Josh and Ginger, locked in a passionate embrace. His gaze turned back to Carol, and she met his eyes over Margaret and CJ's shoulders. He motioned to the door and left quickly, heading straight to the lobby, where she met him minutes later.

"It's going to be a fun day at work," he told her as they walked hand in hand down the street.

Her eyes gleamed in the dim lamplight. "Don't worry about that…worry about tonight."

He looked down at her, a broad smile spreading across his face as he discovered that he quite liked the sound of that. "Yes Ma'am."

>*<*>*<

Early morning sunshine streamed through the crack in the curtains, landing squarely on Josh's sleeping face. Muttering a few curses about the morning coming far too soon, he opened his eyes, shutting them quickly as the sudden exposure to bright light started a round of kettledrums banging in his head. He flung one arm over his eyes; the better to shut out the light, the other arm flung out just as quickly to the other side of the bed.

"Ouch!" the bed yelped.

Josh's eyes flew open, pain forgotten as he realised that his bed did not usually talk back to him. He sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring that it made the room spin crazily around him, and did his best to focus.

There was someone in his bed. That much was undeniable. And he wasn't wearing any clothes. And now that he thought about it, he did remember kissing someone at the party. And in the back of the cab. And in his living room.

He hadn't been so far gone that he'd forgotten who it was either. He didn't have that sensitive a system.

But that didn't change the fact that it should never have happened.

He was pretty sure that that was written all over his face, because it was certainly written all over hers when she turned to face him, holding the sheet protectively up across her breasts. "Morning Josh," she mumbled, pushing her hair back with one hand.

"Ginger," was the only greeting he could manage. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before deciding that the truth was probably the best thing he could come out with. "Well, this is certainly awkward."

She looked more awake now than she did when she'd first greeted him, and she smiled at him uncertainly. "You could say that."

"I mean, you and I have never…."

"No!"

"And it's not something that I planned to happen…."

"Me either."

"And there's no reason that anyone has to find out about it…"

She raised an eyebrow, and the look on her face was scarily reminiscent of Donna. His stomach turned as he thought of what Donna would say if she heard about this. Therefore, Ginger's next words were not welcomed by him. "Josh, I'm pretty sure I remember Margaret giving me some…." Her cheeks flushed red at the memory. "…Advice…. when I was getting my coat."

Josh's jaw went slack. "Margaret?" he squeaked. "Advice?"

Ginger nodded. "You don't want to know," she assured him. "But I'm pretty sure we're going to be water cooler talk."

"Great." Josh flopped back on the pillow, closing his eyes again, and he was surprised to hear Ginger laugh.

"Thanks a lot Josh." She smacked his leg gently. "Make a girl feel wanted why don't you?"

Even though her tone was light, Josh still felt guilty. "I’m sorry," he told her, sitting up again. "You've got to know Ginger, it's not you. You're an incredible person, and there's any number of men in the West Wing…hell, in the city, who would love to be where I am right now. But…"

Her voice was low as she cut him off. "But I'm not the assistant that you wanted to wake up with."

He opened his mouth to issue the denial that came to him almost automatically most days, but something stopped him. It was probably the look on her face, the sad smile, the knowing tone of her voice. And in a sudden flash of insight, Josh realised the truth. "And I'm not the person you wanted to go home with either, am I?"

She looked away from him, and that was all he needed to see. "No, you're not."

When the silence threatened to become awkward again, Josh spoke. "So what do we do now?"

"I get dressed, I call a cab, and we forget this ever happened. And wait for the talk to die down."

"You're being very matter of fact about this."

She smiled at him. "What choice do we have Josh? It's done. You can't unring a bell. We just have to live with it."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah."

She moved over to the edge of the bed, still gripping the sheet, then looked at him expectantly. "Would you…?"

"Huh?" When he realised what she meant, he replied, flustered, "Oh yeah…sure…" and turned towards the window. "There's a robe on the closet door."

"I've got it... You can turn around now." When he did, she pointed to a door. "The bathroom's in here?"

"Yeah." She was almost in the door when he called her name. "Ginger?" She looked at him questioningly. "Are we gonna be…you know…ok?"

She smiled, but it was a sad smile, and he could see his own fears, that they'd just screwed up any chance of being with the people that they really wanted to be with. "We'll be fine," she told him, and he almost believed her. God, he wanted to believe her. "And if you get any spare Sting tickets, you know who to call."

The door closed behind her, and despite his worry about what he was going to say to Donna, to CJ, to Leo, he allowed himself to laugh.

>*<*>*<

In a different bedroom, the sunlight fell on another sleeping couple, and Toby opened his eyes slowly, thanking the powers that be that he wasn't prone to hangovers. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, going over the events of the night before for a moment, before his gaze moved to the woman asleep on his chest, her long blonde hair fanned out behind her on the pillow. He pushed a few errant strands back from her face, smiling as she wrinkled her nose, his touch bringing her back from the realm of sleep and dreams. Her blue eyes opened and blinked sleepily up at him, but a smile spread across her face.

"Good morning," he greeted her. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm," was the only things that she replied, and that made him chuckle.

"Nice to see that you're as conversational as ever."

"Shut up," she grumbled, still smiling as she said it, before she stretched up to kiss him. "I had a good time last night," she continued when she broke the kiss.

"Me too."

"We probably shouldn't have done this though." There was a shadow of doubt in her eyes as she stared up at him.

"Don't we say that every time?" he asked her, his fingers dancing up and down her back.

"I know we do." She leaned into his touch, her own fingers reaching up to play with the strands of hair at the back of his neck. "But last night, we weren't as discreet as we normally are."

"That's true," Toby allowed. "Our little secret is out in the open."

"But it was a nice secret while it lasted."

"Very nice," he agreed, kissing her quickly.

"Although we're not going to be the only ones people are gossiping about." She looked up at him, studying him carefully. "Did you see Josh and Ginger?"

He studied her just as carefully. "I did." He measured his words carefully. "How do you feel about that?"

She shrugged. "It's not like I can say much. Not without being a hypocrite anyway. And they, at least, really were a one-night-stand."

"You sure?"

"Toby, Josh is a terrible liar. And so is Ginger. There's no way they'd be able to hide it."

"You're probably right." He wanted her to be right. He wanted to believe her.

"I am, and you know it. I can't say I was pleased to see it though." Her voice was despondent on the last, and Toby knew just how she was feeling.

"I know." He ran his fingers through her hair absently, staring up at the ceiling.

"So." Predictably, Donna broke the silence. "We pretend this was a one time thing?"

"I would say so. Wouldn't you?"

"And we agree that it will never happen again."

He nodded. "Until the next time it happens again."

She nodded. "Can I take the first shower?"

"Sure." He watched as she walked across the room, her lack of clothing not bothering her in the slightest. "Donna?" he called out, and there was something in his tone that caused her to stop, but not turn. "When are you going to tell him?"

She sighed, turning her head to him. "I don't know Toby." Her voice sounded older, tireder that it had seconds earlier. "When are you going to tell her?"

The door closed behind her, leaving Toby alone with his thoughts.

>*<*>*<

In a third bedroom, light streamed through the curtains and fell on Sam's face, but he didn't open his eyes. Instead, he smiled to himself, and tightened his grip on the woman in his arms. Her back was pressed against his chest, his arms around her waist, and he pressed his face into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, reluctant to open his eyes, to begin the day. Why would he want to get up, to go to work, when he could just stay like this?

She moved her head, granting him better access, proving to him that she was awake too. "Good morning," he murmured, before bending his head back to his task.

"Well, I'm guessing you slept well," she managed to say, and he drew back from her, allowing her to turn her head towards him. He opened his eyes then, almost afraid of what he'd see on her face, seeing a smile there, relief flooding through him at the sight. She couldn't be regretting what had happened between them last night then. He hoped. Stranger things had been known to happen.

"I woke up well," he told her, and he was rewarded by the blush that crept up her face.

"That's why they pay you to write is it?" she wondered, and he reflected that she must be getting used to compliments from him, because that was the kind of reply that he would have expected from her under ordinary circumstances, which these most definitely were not.

"No…that one's for free." His hand reached up to caress her cheek and he looked into her eyes for a long moment before bending his head and meeting her lips with his own. She responded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck, moving her body against his.

Neither one was sure how much later it was when they pulled away, but both were smiling. She rested her head on his chest and one of his arms went around her shoulders, toying with her hair absently. "This is nice," he said finally.

"It is," she agreed.

"Better than nice," he continued. "It's not awkward, or weird, like these things normally are…"

Some part of Sam's brain did register that that might not have been the smartest thing that he'd ever said in his life. And if his brain hadn't registered that of its own accord, then the fact that she propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him, frowning, would have done it. "What things would these be Sam?" she asked, a distinct edge to her voice. "And how often do they happen to you?"

"Not at all," Sam blustered, and her look turned from an angry frown to a frankly sceptical one. "That is, hardly ever. I don't make a habit of it, if that's what you're thinking."

"A habit of one-night-stands?" Carol guessed.

"Yes." She let out a disgusted noise and tried to move, but Sam was too quick for her and kept his arms tightly around her waist. "I'm saying this wrong."

"I'll say."

"What I'm trying to say Carol…" Sam was sitting up in bed now, as was she. "Is that this doesn't feel like a one-night-stand. And maybe that's because it isn't." He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

She looked at him, doubt replacing irritation. "Is that what you want?" she asked.

He considered a smart remark, then simply nodded. "That's what I want," he told her honestly. "No matter what you might have heard…after Laurie…I don't usually do this. Pick up someone and bring them home. And I don't think that you do either. So whatever this is…I don't think we should walk away from it."

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. It came, not with words, but with a kiss, and he wrapped his arms around her gratefully, thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't talked his way into trouble.

She broke the kiss, and he was half afraid that she'd changed her mind, but she only looked over her shoulder, her eyes falling on the bedside clock. "What time do you have to be in the office at?"

He tried to do the math, but having her in his arms made even simple arithmetic beyond him, so he settled for "Not for hours."

"Good." Her smile was the same one that she'd bestowed on him on the street the night before, when she'd told him only to concern himself with the night ahead of him, the same gleam in her eyes. "Then we've got plenty of time."

>*<*>*<

The White House had been largely deserted for much of the morning, with only a skeleton staff working. By early afternoon however, most people had begun to crawl out of their apartments and made their way to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, if only to check that there was nothing vital that needed their attention, vital being anything short of Armageddon.

The first port of call for most staffers on New Year's Day, certainly the assistants to the Senior Staff at any rate, was and always had been, the Mess. They had a habit of meeting there after one of them had had a hot date, or an important night out, or some other matter of great import to discuss. Today, it was the site of the great post-mortem, and as Margaret and Bonnie were discovering, there was much gossip to be dissected.

Bonnie was covering her face with her hands. "Nothing happened Margaret. I swear."

"Well, it didn't look like nothing to me," Margaret informed her archly. "It looked an awful lot like something when you and Zach were making out on the dance floor."

"It was an innocent kiss Margaret, nothing more."

"Sure." In point of fact, Margaret knew that Bonnie was telling the truth. After all, she was the one who'd put her friend in a cab. "Which is more than can be said for Ginger and Donna."

Bonnie's eyes grew wide as she took a sip of her extra-strong coffee. "I know…who would have thought?"

"I'm not surprised that the two of them went home with Toby and Josh…I'm just surprised who went home with whom."

"Sing it girl," Bonnie murmured. It was an open secret around the White House that Donna was crazy about Josh, but somewhat more secret was how Ginger felt about Toby. "How do you think they're going to act around each other?"

"Well, I guess we're going to find out." Margaret was looking across the room to the coffee machine, where Donna was standing, filling up her own cup of extra-strong coffee. She turned and saw them looking at her, and her face flushed red. They didn't even pretend to talk about something innocuous, they just waited for Donna to join them.

When she sat down, they continued to just look at her. She took a sip of her coffee, then another one before putting it down carefully and meeting their eyes. "Go on. Say it."

Bonnie and Margaret looked at each other.

"Toby?" Bonnie finally asked, never in a million years having thought of her boss in that light.

"I thought he scared the crap out of you," Margaret continued.

"No, he scares the crap out of you Margaret," Donna told her. "And as to what I was thinking…what we were thinking…it was New Year's Eve, we were drinking, we were talking…stuff happens." Donna conveniently left out all the times that it had happened without drink and not on New Year's Eve.

"But Toby?" Bonnie kept her voice down, but her incredulity carried her words to tables beyond theirs, and heads turned in their directions.

Donna's fair cheeks burned, and she refused to look around. "What's so wrong about it? He's a nice guy…. a gentleman if you want to know."

Bonnie winced and held up her hands. "Now that was just too much information."

She and Donna were facing the same direction, but Margaret was looking towards the door, where she would see anyone who was coming. So it was she who cleared her throat suddenly. "Hey Ginger."

Ginger pushed her hair back behind her ears with one hand, laying her coffee cup on the table with the other, a couple of drops spilling on the table when she wasn't quite able to stop her hands shaking. "Hey guys."

An awkward silence descended on the table, Donna and Ginger both staring into their coffee cups, Margaret and Bonnie looking from one to the other to each other, wondering if they should head for the hills or start selling tickets.

Three women jumped when Donna finally spoke. "It doesn't have to be this awkward."

Ginger looked up, eyes wide and hopeful, but she didn't say anything. "You sure about that Donna?" Bonnie asked. "Because you gotta know that half the West Wing is already talking about the three of us…Margaret here's the only one who's got off lightly."

"That's because Leo wasn't at the party." Donna's smile was wicked, and she got a slap on the arm from Margaret in response. "Seriously guys…it was one wild night at the New Year…can't we just put it behind us? Forget all about it?"

Again, Bonnie and Margaret were left looking at Ginger for her reaction. They breathed sighs of relief when a smile crossed her face. "I'd really like that."

Donna's smile was just as bright. "Good." She took a sip of her coffee.

"But Donna? In the interests of friendship…and honesty?" Ginger said. Donna looked at her curiously, and Margaret and Bonnie followed suit. "It wasn't me that Josh wanted to go home with last night. You should know that."

Donna blinked, surprised at her words, then she smiled again. "And you should know…in the interests of friendship…and honesty…Toby didn't really want to go home with me last night either." Which was both true and false she knew, but Ginger didn't need to know that.

They were both sitting there, smiling like idiots, while Margaret and Bonnie were breathing sighs of relief when Carol came up. "Hey guys," she said, pulling up a chair to their table. "What did I miss?"

"A bit of sisterly bonding from Ginger and Donna," Bonnie told her.

"And a little bit of teasing Margaret over Leo," Donna chimed in.

Margaret chose to ignore that, and instead concentrated on Carol. "Where did you get to last night?" she asked her. "You seemed to disappear early."

Carol smiled, shaking her head. "It's kind of a drag being the only sober person in the room," she admitted. "I stayed for the countdown, then I headed home."

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Alone?" she asked, and the other three women developed quite an interest in the conversation, especially when Carol wasn't quite able to hide her blush.

Even when her body was betraying her, she still tried to lie. "Of course it was alone."

Of course, it didn't help that she was one of the world's worst liars. Donna leaned across the table and called her bluff. "Bull. Details. Now."

"I really don’t know what you're talking about." If in doubt, stonewall. One of CJ's life lessons, well learned by her loyal assistant.

"Carol!" The collective yell of four women had them and their colleagues around them wincing in pain and clutching their heads, while the woman in question just laughed and shook her head.

"I'd better get back upstairs. CJ must be looking for me by now."

If she thought that that was going to get her off the hook, she was very much mistaken. Walking through the White House, her friends insisting that she spill the beans, she suddenly felt a peculiar affinity with the Pied Piper, and she saw the entrance to her cubicle with a gratitude she'd never quite felt before. That is, until she saw her desk; more specifically, until she saw the bouquet of red roses on her desk.

The other assistants crowded around her, staring at the flowers in shock. Margaret recovered first, going to the desk and looking at them with an eagle eye. "There's no card," she announced.

"Who the hell can get flowers this early on New Year's Day?" Donna wondered.

"I know a guy."

The voice from behind them had them all jumping and turning, only to see Sam leaning against the wall, hands in his pocket, a contented little smile on his face. They looked from him to Carol, who was just staring at him, a smile slowly spreading across her own face.

Sam shrugged, taking a couple of steps closer to Carol. "Well? Don't you like them?"

The only answer that Carol gave was the only one he wanted as she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him passionately. Both were unaware of the dropped jaws of the women around them, of the stares of their other co-workers, and the whistles and catcalls that went on as the kiss went on longer than anyone might have expected it would. When their lips parted, Sam kissed Carol on the cheek, just holding her for a second longer, long enough to whisper in her ear, "Happy New Year Carol."

It had been a bad year for most of the West Wing staff. But, as most of them reflected later on that day, even with the hangovers, even with the gossip, the New Year hadn't started that badly.  



End file.
